


Honey, Revisited

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dom Loki (Marvel), F/M, Fluff and Smut, Honey, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Light Bondage, Loki in love, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Loki (Marvel), Shameless Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25343014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: Loki decides to indulge a specific, sticky-sweet fantasy that's been on his mind for quite some time.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Loki/In-Unga
Comments: 15
Kudos: 251
Collections: Flurries - The World of Frostbite





	Honey, Revisited

It’s taken some time to warm the royal chambers to the point that even his mortal queen will be comfortable completely nude for as long as he chooses to keep her that way, but Loki thinks that it has been well worth the wait. She’s spread out enticingly atop furs and imported silken sheets, wearing nothing but the collar that he gave her not long after they’d first met. It really isn’t fair, in his opinion, that such a simple thing can still have such a powerful effect on him; he’s hard and aching already, and they’ve barely begun to play.

Loki sits back on his heels and admires his work. The pretty silver chain stretches up over the side of their bed, wrapping around one wrist, leaving a bit of length in between before wrapping around the other. Her chain is pulled tight - just tight enough to keep her arms exactly where he wants them. He considers doing the same to her legs, then thinks better of it. She’ll be writhing with pleasure, soon, and he wants to feel it.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“I’m always ready for anything,” she replies haughtily. Loki can tell that she’s trying to test the chains, and he smiles. They may be thin, but they’re reinforced with magic. She won’t be breaking them, even in the throes of passion, and he isn’t going to release her until he’s finished with her.

“Good,” he says. “Stay still, then.”

He retrieves a crystal jar of honey, warm to the touch. He’s had many,  _ many _ daydreams and idle fantasies about this, and he’s determined to enjoy it to the fullest. His schedule is clear, all meetings taken care of, and nobody with any will to live will dare to disturb him until tomorrow, at the very earliest. He’s made it  _ quite _ clear that he is to be left alone.

The first drop of honey falls on her wrist, and she giggles. “That  _ tickles, _ Loki,” she whispers, breaking her stoic character. “And it’s warm.”

“It isn’t too hot, is it?”

“No,” she assures him.

He grins. “Good.” It’s a delicate operation; he envisions an unbroken pattern of honey all across her beautiful skin, but she squirms and pleads with him to  _ please touch her, _ and it’s a struggle to remain focused. “No,” he says, voice low and stern. “You’ll wait until I’m ready.”

The honey trails down her inner arm and across her shoulder and breastbone, and Loki is mesmerized as he drizzles a delicate spiral on each breast. He  _ wants _ to taste - and desperately - but he resists. He allows an extra bit of honey to fall on each taut little peak, ensuring that he’ll have to spend more time cleaning it away with his tongue. She sighs and shivers as his lips come close, his breath bringing goosebumps to her skin… but he doesn’t touch her.

Her other arm is next to receive his attention, though,  _ Norns help him, _ he  _ does _ pause to suck an errant droplet of honey from her fingertips. Loki tells himself that he had no choice; it wasn’t according to the pattern that he’s painting, and so it was necessary that he remove it as quickly as possible. Her stomach is next, and then her hip and thigh. The line of honey reaches all the way to her ankle, and he pauses, twirls the spoon to capture the excess, then begins on her other ankle. When he glances up to check on her, she’s already got that slightly-distant, desperate sort of need in her eyes that he craves. 

His chest swells with masculine pride. He is both conqueror and conquest.

Loki takes his time putting the honey away on a nearby shelf, enjoying her frustration as she watches him move about the room. He stands over her, stroking himself, just to see the  _ craving _ in her eyes. She licks her lips and parts them, her eyelids lowered, and Loki decides that he’d better get on with his plans; if he doesn’t, she’s going to lead him astray, and he can’t have that.

Climbing onto the bed, he starts with her left leg, first, his tongue laving her ankle and and calf clean of the sticky sweetness. She starts and gasps, her scent thickening. His view, in his opinion, is exquisite. 

“Sweetheart?” she whispers. “I haven’t shaved or—”

“Have I ever cared?” he interrupts. Not to be distracted, he sets to work lapping up the honey that’s coming dangerously close to dripping onto the sheets from her calves. He has to hold her ankles down to keep her still.  _ Impatient minx. _

“The last time I was all silky-smooth,” she says breathlessly, “I thought that you liked it.”

“I did like it,” Loki replies, “but I like you this way, too.” He smiles, lascivious, smoothing his hand up her inner thigh. “Be still,” he warns when she wiggles. “If you smear my art before I’ve had a chance to taste, I’ll have to start all over again, and we don’t want that, do we?”

“No,” she mutters, fixing him with a very sullen, petulant look that nearly makes him laugh. “We don’t.”

“Good girl.”

He can hear her heart thrumming with excitement, and his own heart does the same. She responds so wonderfully to praise, and Loki will never tire of praising her. He’ll never understand why she insists that she has flaws, when he sees only perfection.  _ Love. _ He  _ loves _ her. There is no part of his heart that does not belong wholly to her, and some days, he’s startled to discover himself growing to adore her even more.

“Beautiful queen,” he says, taking in the picture laid out before him. He cannot believe that he’s waited so long to indulge this particular fantasy, which is proving to be even more rewarding than he’d ever expected.

He works his way up from her ankle to her knee - a wonderfully-sensitive spot that he’s neglected to pay proper attention to in the past. His tongue laves up her thigh and into the little dip in her hip where the honey’s pooled. She’s trembling deliciously, his little queen. Loki decides to indulge himself - only a bit - pausing to brush his nose through her curls. The scent of her is intoxicating. He’s sorely tempted to allow himself further distraction, to  _ taste _ her—  _ No, _ he decides. He can wait. The waiting makes it all the more sweet.

She whimpers, and Loki smiles, brushing a gentle kiss on the soft, smooth skin just below her navel before he resumes his task. He begins again with her other ankle, moving even more slowly this time, languidly savoring every little mewl and tremor that escapes her as she desperately tries to remain still. She’s stubborn, his queen. She won’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking her, and he adores her for it. 

He waits until his lips are close to her center before he speaks again. “Good, good girl,” he praises, his voice rumbling in his chest. There are certain advantages to jötunn biology, he’s decided, and one of those is the ability to feel the heat radiating from her, to hear the blood pounding in her veins. The chains softly clink, and he hides his victorious smile against her hip bone, pausing to nip and suck just long enough that her skin begins to darken. 

Loki likes leaving reminders.

When he peers up at her again, his smile falls; he’s too awestruck by the blatant, furious  _ lust _ in her eyes, and another groan is torn from his lips. If he hadn’t taken the time and effort to bind her to the bed, he knows she’d be wrestling him for control, and he’d very likely end up relinquishing it to her; it is very difficult to resist his beautiful queen demanding his cock, after all. 

“Loki,” she whines.

His smile returns. He’s going to take his time, and by the time he grants her satisfaction, her body and her mind will know nothing but  _ him. _

For a moment, he pauses to consider which path to take next; he’s eager to feel her breasts, but he wants to deny them the satisfaction, and so he takes his time licking the honey from her arms and neck, instead. When he does finally turn his attentions to the sweet little peaks of her breasts, swirling his tongue around their hardened buds, he’s so eager that she’d probably be able to make him climax then and there with a gentle brush of her hand. He’s very,  _ very _ glad that he had the foresight to tie her down.

He braces himself so that no part of him touches her, aside from his mouth, and his queen curls and mewls beneath him, trying desperately to press against him, to relieve the painful ache between her thighs. “Poor girl,” he croons, crowding  _ just _ close enough that she can feel the heat of his body… but staying beyond her reach. Perspiration collects in the hollow of her throat, and Loki gladly collects it on his tongue.  _ Sweet and salty. _ He loves it. He might never leave their bed again. 

She’s begging for him, and he brushes his fingers through her mound of curls, deciding that he’s waited long enough to indulge. He sinks two long fingers inside of her, groaning at the sounds she makes as she clenches around him. For a moment or two, he’s content to simply stroke her there, studying the expressions she makes when he finds that one little spot inside of her that’s more sensitive than the rest. His fingers curl, and she cries out his name, her eyes scrunched shut. 

He sucks on his fingers, watching with a stoic sort of satisfaction as she arches her back, desperate for his touch. Loki, of course, isn’t feeling particularly stoic at this moment - but he can play the part excellently. “I want to taste you so badly, darling,” he tells her with a regretful sigh, “but you and I both know that you will come at once if I do, won’t you? My naughty, needy girl. We can’t have that, can we?”

“I’m going to get you back for this,” she pants. “You… just you wait, Loki.”

Loki smiles, and he holds her hips to the bed as he very slowly, purposefully presses his fingers back inside of her. His queen gasps and curses - very unladylike curses, and Loki can’t get enough of them. “Do you think you’re ready for me, little queen?” he asks. It’s an unnecessary question; she’s dripping, her skin dewy and tears in her eyes from her need. Still, Loki can’t help but to draw out her torture and his own; he’s finding it increasingly difficult to do more than grunt and snarl and roughly rut, and he cannot  _ wait _ to find out how far he can push them both before he does. 

_ “Yes,” _ she says. “My king -  _ Loki—” _

The pad of his finger brushes that wonderful, hidden little spot again, and she keens. “Husband,” he tells her. Loki loves hearing her say his name, loves all of her praises and curses… but a strange sort of thrill fills his heart when she calls him  _ husband. _

She’s straining in earnest against the chains, now. Her eyes are reddening. “Husband,” she pleads,  _ “please. _ I  _ need _ you.”

It’s all the encouragement Loki needs. He can’t resist the allure any longer, and he positions himself over her, sliding himself against her slippery folds before sinking into her to the hilt in one swift, decisive thrust.

She climaxes with a wail, clenching down around him with that intoxicating, unbearable heat, and Loki nearly bites through his lip to keep from following her into rapture.  _ “Bad girl,” _ he growls, his movements more rough, more urgent. It’s all he can manage to say; he’s far past the point of complete coherence. He hooks an arm under one of her legs, canting her hips so that he can bury himself deeper. Some part of him wants to muffle her cries with a kiss… but the darker, more primal part revels in the idea that the whole of the palace might hear their coupling.  _ Mine,  _ he thinks.  _ Always mine. Only mine. _

“Please,” she begs. “Loki -  _ sire _ —”

His silver tongue is useless to him, now; he’s too transfixed by her eyes, her lips, the scalding heat of her as she tries to mold her form to his, even with her arms bound. Her legs wrap around his hips, heels digging into his thighs as she praises him, tells him how  _ good _ he feels, how she’s his, how she’ll do anything at all for the privilege of feeling him spill inside of her.

Loki cannot possibly resist such fervent, worshipful pleadings, nor can he resist the urge to kiss her deeply when he comes, his fingers playing with her sensitive little bud to make sure that she has her own pleasure again, too. He is, after all, a  _ generous _ king.

There are stars behind his eyes, and every nerve is on fire. Shuddering, he closes his eyes and concentrates on nothing but the feel of her clenching around him, enjoying the aftershocks of her bliss. He’s boneless, chest heaving as he tries to hold himself up so that he doesn’t crush her lovely, delicate body beneath him.

He reaches up, easily snaps the thin chains binding her. He nuzzles against her cheek and her neck, overcome with a profoundly satisfied, bone-deep exhaustion. “My love,” he says. It isn’t his most eloquent post-coital praise, but it’s enough. She already knows she’s his entire world. She can feel every beat of his heart.

“Mine,” she replies, wrapping her arms around him. She sighs, pleased and content, and when Loki rolls to his side, she keeps her leg wrapped around his hip, trapping him inside of her irresistible embrace. The room smells of salt and sweetness and sex, and Loki could never dream of a paradise any more perfect.

Their kisses and caresses grow more soft and languid as sleep comes to claim them. That is fine; the King and Queen of Jotunheim have nowhere to be. Their kingdom lies peaceful beneath the tower where they sleep, and their respite is well-earned. They will wake in the morning, still entangled in each other’s arms, smiling and laughing and ready to face whatever the sunrise brings.


End file.
